


Rowdy 3 Packing Service

by GilliganGoodfellow



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Found Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 02:50:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13627032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GilliganGoodfellow/pseuds/GilliganGoodfellow
Summary: Amanda is moving into the Rowdy 3's van. That means her stuff needs to be packed.Yeah...





	Rowdy 3 Packing Service

As the van pulled up outside of number 3540, Amanda felt her hands curl into fists of their own accord, nervously fidgeting with the edge of her top. “So, we’re here.”

“Yeah!” She gave a small cry as Gripps and Cross jumped past her, landing on the lawn and turning back to face the van.

“Packing time.” Cross shouted.

“Getting you moved into the van, lickety split.” Gripps pointed at Amanda as he walked backwards towards the house.

“No breaking, boys.” Martin said as he stepped out of the van himself. “Treat Drummer’s stuff right. Gripps, bedroom. Cross, front room. Vogel - “ Martin paused, threw a half smile at the youngest Rowdy and slowly removed the baseball bat from his hands. “ - find some boxes.”

“Boxes.” He broke eye contact, nodded, and smiled. “I can do that.” He nodded again, and ran past Martin into the house.

Martin reached out for Amanda’s hand and guided her out of the van onto the grass. “We’ll have you packed and ready to go in no time, Drummer.”

“Maybe.” Amanda made circular motions with her hands as she considered her wording. “Maybe I should do my own packing.”

“Worried what my boys are going to find?” Martin tilted his head to one side.

“Worried about what your boys are going to do to my stuff.”

“Hey Martin these boxes all have stuff in them.” Vogel’s voice echoed from the garage, shortly followed by a smashing sound not unlike a box being emptied onto a floor.

Amanda indicated the house with a sweeping gesture. Martin responded with a chuckle, and reached into one of his pockets. “Hold Mona.”

“Mona?” Amanda gave Martin a questioning look as she accepted the - it looked like a Panic Pete toy. “Ookay.”

Martin smiled, before gently poking Amanda in the forehead with his index finger. “She likes you.”

Martin then disappeared into the house, leaving Amanda on the lawn with a Panic Pete toy that was apparently called Mona.

“Is this my life now?” She said to the toy, which responded with a wheezy squeak

She forced a smile onto her face as she stepped into the house.

As soon as the front door closed, Cross poked his head out from her living room with a tv magazine in his hand. “You want this?”

Wordlessly, Amanda shook her head. She waited for Cross to disappear again, before holding up the Panic Pete - Mona? - toy and squeezing it.

It wheazed, like a balloon losing air.

“Yeah.” Amanda nodded. “I like you too.”

She flinched as her drums started being - well, played was a strong word. Attacked was probably a better description of their predicament as she stepped into the garage to find Vogel hitting everything in sight with the drumsticks (Including but not limited to the drums, the cymbals, a shelf, the floor and a bottle of fabric conditioner).

“Okay, no. Virgil?”

“Vogel.” He corrected.

“Sorry, Vogel.” Amanda nodded. “Just.” She took the drumsticks off him. “Please stop doing that.”

“You play.” He pointed at the drum kit as he stood up.

“Now?”

“Yeah.” He was now sat cross legged on the floor, already an attentive audience as she sat down at the drum kit, putting Mona on the floor beside her. She took a deep breath and then played the first song that came into her head, hitting each pulse with as much strength as she had, and getting more energetic as she heard Vogel whooping and dancing in his seat on the floor.

She hit the cymbal multiple times, and threw her arms up into the air. “Yeah!”

“Yeah!” Vogel shouted back, copying her moves. “Play another one.”

“Hey Drummer” Martin had his arms crossed as he stood at the door. “Gripps needs your input on a CERTAIN wardrobe side of things.”

“Those things. Yes.” Amanda stood up, handing Vogel the drumsticks and picking up Mona. She walked past Martin, and called into the house. “Gripps. Step away from the underwear drawer.”

She walked into her bedroom to find Cross and Gripps sat side by side on her bed, Gripps holding some of her books and Cross holding the large duffel bag her travel mad x-boyfriend had gotten her one christmas.

“You’re packing my books?”

“Figured you might want something to do while we’re sleeping.” Cross said.

Amanda broke eye contact as she thought the sentence through, then looked back at them. “Won’t I be sleeping too.”

“You sleep?” Gripps looked from Amanda to Cross. “It ain’t just us?”

Cross looked from Gripps to Amanda. “So you DON’T want the books.”

Amanda looked up at the ceiling, a gesture that was, by chance, perfectly timed with Vogel resuming his homicide attempt of her drum kit in the garage. “What’s Martin doing?”

“Bathroom.” Cross said.

“Getting stuff from the bathroom.” Gripps said.

“Oh God.” Amanda got to the bathroom just in time to see Martin regarding - yep, he’d found them.

Martin shrugged, and held the box up. “Will you be needing these?”

“Only one week a month, but YES, please pack them.” Amanda leant against the doorframe, squeezing the Mona toy in her balled fist.

Martin stopped at the medicine cabinet, looking at the row of pill bottles. “You want to take these?”

Amanda regarded them with a shrug, trembling slightly.

“We got you covered now.” Martin picked up one of the bottles. “But knowing you got pills ready to go might make you feel better, first few days?”

Amanda thought about that for a moment. “One bottle. Just in case.”

Martin grunted in acknowledgement, before shoving the bottle into the brown paper bag he was carrying. “Anything else from in here?”

Amanda shrugged. “Makeup, maybe. I’m - gonna pack the - clothes.” She stepped backwards into the hallway, and onwards back to her bedroom, where she was just in time to witness Cross and Gripps trying to figure out how to fit her duvet and pillow into the duffel bag.

“Okay, guys, seriously.” Amanda grabbed the duffel bag from Cross. “I CAN pack my own stuff.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to though.” Gripps said.

“Yeah. We’ve got your back now, Drummer.” Cross said.

“You’re one of us. We look out for each other.”

Amanda raised her eyebrows. “By packing up each others houses?”

The Rowdy’s both shrugged.

“I’m not - one of you.” Amanda dropped the bag. “Why - how - I can’t do that energy thing! I’m not ‘rowdy’. I’m just a punk girl from Oregan with a disease and four strange guys in her house, one of whom SERIOUSLY can not play the drums and - .” She lowered her arms “Why is this happening?”

Cross stood in front of her, placing a hand on each of her shoulders. “We don’t choose our family, Amanda. It chooses us.”

“Family?”

“Yeah.” Gripps said, clasping Cross’s shoulder, before heading out to join Martin in the hallway, leaving Amanda and Cross alone.

“Meant what I said before.” Cross gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You don’t need to worry about anything now.”

“Okay.”

He smiled, and gave both her shoulders a quick pat before reaching down for the duffel bag and handing it back to her.

“Hey Amanda.” Vogel’s shouted into the hallway. “Can we pack the drums?”

“NO!” All four responded in unison.

Cross chuckled, winked at Amanda, and walked past her into the hallway.

Amanda turned to find Gripps stood in the doorway. “You need any help?”

“I’ll yell.” Amanda nodded, a smile on her face that Gripps quickly shared with her. Alone in the room, she turned to the bed, noticing for the first time the collection of clothes carefully laid out and folded, ready to go into a bag or box. She chuckled as she picked up one of her shirts with one hand, still holding Mona in the other.

“Family.” She nodded as she looked at the toy, which quickly squeaked in response.

It was only later that Amanda realised that she hadn’t squeezed the toy first.


End file.
